Stick Figures: Theme #54: Visions
Title: Stick Figure
Author: cynthia_harrell
Rated: PG (for a bit of profanity close to the end)
Genre: Friendship
Theme: #54, visions
Summary: Art isn't Ryou or Fubuki's best subject. But one lesson is going to stick around for a while.
Professor Kabayama’s class was one of the most boring offered in the entire Academia, in Marufuji Ryou’s opinion. Even Satou-sensei was a little better. Sure, his approach to teaching was old-fashioned, but Ryou had never had any problems passing the class. However, despite all of his skills in dueling, artwork was somewhat beyond him.
He tried, though. Never let it be said that he didn’t try. He looked down at the paper before him and drew a few more lines, attempting to make it look more like a Cyber Dragon instead of …well, he didn’t know what it was, but it didn’t really look like one of his beloved metallic beasts.
He glanced over to one side, where Fujiwara was working on his own assignment. His was looking much better than Ryou’s own, though it wasn’t perfect material by any means. At least his sketch was somewhat recognizable as being a human being, though the arms and legs were longer than any human Ryou had ever seen before, and the hair color was a shade of violet that he’d never known could exist.
Granted, given his own deep blue tones, he was hardly one to talk.
“Yours looks good,” Fujiwara murmured softly, turning to look at him. Ryou only shrugged. This wasn’t one of his better efforts.
“I can do better.” Truth to be told, he wasn’t certain if he could. But he did want to see if he could find some help. He’d never had to ask anyone for assistance in a class before, but there was probably a first time for everything. Perhaps if he spoke to Kabayama-sensei after class, he would be able to suggest someone.
He glanced around the room curiously, wondering just who might be selected. There were a few people here who were very good at art, but none that he was certain he felt comfortable about taking advice from. His gaze skimmed right past the Osiris Red students, though he did stop briefly at Maeda Hayato. He was bent over his work, drawing furiously. A slight bit of pity touched Ryou’s heart at the sight. Someday, that could be Shou. He did hope that Shou wouldn’t try to attend Duel Academia. He wasn’t suited for it, and likely enough never would be.
There weren’t any Ra Yellows that were suitable, he decided. Sure, they might be good at it, but they’d be too overwhelmed by just having to help him. He needed someone who wouldn’t be in awe just by being in his presence. Those were few and far between, sadly. Perhaps one of the Obelisks would be willing to help. If he could find one that wouldn’t at least stare at him for even needing it. He was supposed to be the perfect duelist, after all.
Dueling isn’t art. He drew a few more lines before putting the pencil down. That was as good as it was going to get. Anything more would just torture the poor piece of paper beyond what was acceptable. If he didn’t need to pass this class, he probably wouldn’t have taken it in the first place.
He was about to put the sad attempt at artwork away when an extraordinarily familiar hand reached over and stopped him. He sighed briefly. “What do you want with that, Fubuki?”
“Just looking!” His far too cheerful friend chirped as he pulled the paper over to him. “You know, Ryou, this is really good. Have you ever thought about giving up this dueling thing and being an artist?”
Ryou shot a quick look over at his friend; Fubuki’s sense of humor wasn’t one that he especially enjoyed at times. But at the moment, Fubuki was staring at the paper with a perfectly serious expression on. Not that such an expression meant anything. He’d seen Fubuki examine a handful of sand in the same way, and then expound for ten minutes on the glories of Tupperware. Ryou could only hope it made sense in Fubuki’s own mind. If there was any other place where it made sense, Ryou feared for the world in general.
“What are you drawing?” Ryou asked, wanting to pull Fubuki’s attention away from his own work for a while. Fubuki dropped the paper, which Ryou quickly retrieved, and then held out what he’d been working on.
“This! It’s us!” He plopped it down on Fujiwara’s desk where they could all see it easily. Ryou bent forward a little, then looked over at his friend, not entirely certain if he believed his own eyes. He knew that Fubuki’s grip on reality was somewhat slippery, to put it mildly, but this was just a bit too much, even for him.
“Fubuki. These are stick figures.” He supposed if he squinted slightly, they looked a little different. One had what he supposed were arms folded over his chest, while another was juggling …something. Ryou couldn’t quite figure out what it was. The third one had a book in his hands, or a sort of rectangular thing with ‘book’ written on it in very tiny marks.
Fubuki nodded cheerfully. “I know! Aren’t they great?” It was impossible to get angry at Fubuki. Doing so was something like kicking a puppy that would only wag its tail and bounce right back onto your stomach, licking your face.
“Fubuki, they don’t look anything like us,” Fujiwara said, bending down to get a slightly better look. “Is that one supposed to be me?” He pointed to the one holding the book.
That got another energetic nod. “See, you study all the time, and Ryou likes to stand around with his duel disk…I haven’t put that in there, yet, but I will…and then there’s me! I couldn’t make up mind on what I wanted to be doing, so I picked juggling first. I might do another one later where I’m swimming or dueling or something like that.”
Ryou ground his teeth briefly. “Fubuki. These are stick figures. They’re not us. They’re not even pictures of us.”
“Of course they are.” Fubuki waved away his objections airily. “This is a picture of our potential, Ryou! We’re just first years now. Who knows what we’re going to grow up to be, right?” He eyed Ryou thoughtfully. “But I can make some guesses. You’re going to go into the Pro Leagues and win everything and a year after you graduate, you’ll be rich and famous. Almost as rich and famous as I’ll be, since I’m going to be an actor.”
He patted Fujiwara on the shoulder, grinning. “And you’re going to go work for some researching place and get really smart and know everything, right?” Fujiwara dropped his head, a faint blush tingeing his cheeks. Ryou had to admit, Fujiwara was more studious than the two of them put together.
Regardless, he was extraordinarily glad when he head the bell ring moments later. Kabayama attempted to tell the students something about an assignment, but only a handful remained to listen. The three young elites were among that handful, Ryou and Fujiwara because they both did their homework regularly, and Fubuki because they weren’t leaving yet.
Ryou didn’t think much about that sketch again. In a few more months, there were so many other more important events to think about, such as the mutual disappearance of his two best friends. If he thought of it at all, he would dismiss it. Potential? What was potential if they weren’t there at all?
“There you are!” Fubuki grinned at Ryou as Hell Kaiser stepped into the room. “We were wondering what was keeping you!”
The black-clad duelist only shrugged briefly as he glanced around. Fubuki’s current outfit was no surprise at all to him. He did, however, wonder what sort of blackmail Fubuki had used to get Asuka into that dress. It had to have been something impressive.
Another quick skim of the area showed that Fujiwara was quietly speaking with Samejima over by the stairs. Ryou watched his old friend for a time. It had been ages since they’d seen each other. Fubuki had told him some months earlier about how he had forgotten their friend, and only remembered him now due to a duel with Juudai.
I never knew Fubuki forgot. He hadn’t wanted to mention Fujiwara, since Fubuki had never talked about him in the first place after his return from Darkness. He hadn’t yet had a chance to talk to the green-haired young man, though.
Fubuki poked him in the side, and Ryou shot him a quick, annoyed look. He had never really put up with much of Fubuki’s antics, and these days he did so even less than before. But as always, Fubuki only grinned cheerfully at him. “Come on! I found something I want you guys to see!”
“What is it?” Hell Kaiser would definitely have preferred a more in-depth explanation than a simple ‘come on’. He was healing very well from his most recent surgery, and he didn’t need the wheelchair to get around in for right now, but Fubuki could still put a bit of strain on him just by existing.
All that his question received as an answer was tugging on his elbow. “Come on! This way!” Ryou presumed that Fubuki was trying to get him over to Fujiwara, but he never took anything for granted where Fubuki was concerned. It was just as likely that he had found an interesting shape in the jello.
Ryou was a bit hesitant on following, but there was really no way for him to deny Fubuki’s insistence. Not without causing damage that he didn’t really want to cause, outside of a duel. Fubuki wasn’t trying to annoy him. Not that he ever had to try. He could do it just by being normal.
Insofar as Fubuki ever was normal in the first place.
He really wasn’t even certain of what he was doing here. Being sociable wasn’t his preferred method of existing. He hadn’t even went to his own graduation party, preferring to spend his time packing and saying a few quiet words to Fubuki and Asuka before going to bed early.
Of course, now was a little different. Fujiwara was there, and this was also Shou’s graduation. He’d watched the ceremony from concealment, not wanting to distract from Shou’s joyful moment in any way. Seeing him turn down the chance for Mutou Yuugi’s deck had thrilled Ryou in a way he wasn’t sure if he could explain. Shou had truly understood, eventually.
He cast a quick glance over to where Shou was talking to Kenzan and Rei, and caught his brother’s eyes. Shou looked back at him and smiled just for a moment. That was all that they needed. Conversation could come later, and likely enough would. They had a lot to do together, after all.
Fubuki barely stopped tugging on him, ending up about where Ryou had suspected they would, over by Fujiwara. Samejima had bid him farewell and was already heading over to where Tome-san was waiting for him, a slightly goofy smile on her lips.
“Aw, aren’t they cute?” Fubuki paused long enough to take notice of that. Ryou refused to even look. Other people’s private lives did not interest him. Nor did their public ones, truth to be told.
“What is it you wanted, Fubuki?” he asked, wanting to get this dealt with. He really hadn’t planned to stay all that long, after all.
He nodded a bit at Fujiwara, who nodded back. It was hard to believe it had been five years, and Fujiwara scarcely looked as if he had aged at all. At least not physically. Emotionally, he had. They all had.
Except for Fubuki, but that went without saying.
Fubuki grinned, reached into his jacket, and pulled out a wrinkled and much-folded piece of paper. “Remember this?” Both leaned over for a better look. Ryou sighed briefly at the sight of it.
“Stick figures again?” It was indeed that same picture. Worn with the passage of time, but now that he saw it, he remembered it quite clearly.
From another pocket, Fubuki pulled out a black colored pencil. “I said it was our potential before. Let me show you!” He bent over it, moving it slightly so that they couldn’t see what he was doing. When he finally presented it to them again, the drawing was a little different now.
“What is this supposed to be?” Ryou stared at it, not at all certain of the changes. Fubuki rolled his eyes.
“Look!” He pointed to the stick figure that he had once said represented Ryou. The arms were still folded over the chest, but now something like a black cloud surrounded him. “That’s your new look.” He gestured towards Ryou’s black leather gear. Then he pointed towards the one that was Fujiwara. The book had been altered so it slightly resembled a card. “That’s Honest’s card, because he helped bring you back.”
Fujiwara flushed a little and nodded. Then Fubuki pointed to his own stick figure, which now was holding another card, while the juggling balls had been marked out. Ryou peered at it before he looked back up at Fubuki in confusion. “What’s that?” Kanji had been written on it, but it was so small that he couldn’t really make it out.
Fubuki’s wicked grin was far, far too familiar. Once again he reached into an inner pocket and this time, he tossed a very familiar card onto the table: the card of Darkness. The chains still held the mask back, and Ryou would not have been at all surprised if it had laughed. “It’s that.” He considered something, then bent over the paper once again, his hands and the pencil moving quickly.
When it was done, a line led from the image of the card to a few terse words. Ryou shook his head a little, and Fujiwara stifled a laugh.
Because only Tenjoin Fubuki would have written I made Darkness my bitch on a drawing of stick figures. He grinned proudly. “I told you all. Potential!”
“Stick figures, Fubuki.” Hell Kaiser said wearily. “Stick figures.”
The End
Author: cynthia_harrell
Rated: PG (for a bit of profanity close to the end)
Genre: Friendship
Theme: #54, visions
Summary: Art isn't Ryou or Fubuki's best subject. But one lesson is going to stick around for a while.
Professor Kabayama’s class was one of the most boring offered in the entire Academia, in Marufuji Ryou’s opinion. Even Satou-sensei was a little better. Sure, his approach to teaching was old-fashioned, but Ryou had never had any problems passing the class. However, despite all of his skills in dueling, artwork was somewhat beyond him.
He tried, though. Never let it be said that he didn’t try. He looked down at the paper before him and drew a few more lines, attempting to make it look more like a Cyber Dragon instead of …well, he didn’t know what it was, but it didn’t really look like one of his beloved metallic beasts.
He glanced over to one side, where Fujiwara was working on his own assignment. His was looking much better than Ryou’s own, though it wasn’t perfect material by any means. At least his sketch was somewhat recognizable as being a human being, though the arms and legs were longer than any human Ryou had ever seen before, and the hair color was a shade of violet that he’d never known could exist.
Granted, given his own deep blue tones, he was hardly one to talk.
“Yours looks good,” Fujiwara murmured softly, turning to look at him. Ryou only shrugged. This wasn’t one of his better efforts.
“I can do better.” Truth to be told, he wasn’t certain if he could. But he did want to see if he could find some help. He’d never had to ask anyone for assistance in a class before, but there was probably a first time for everything. Perhaps if he spoke to Kabayama-sensei after class, he would be able to suggest someone.
He glanced around the room curiously, wondering just who might be selected. There were a few people here who were very good at art, but none that he was certain he felt comfortable about taking advice from. His gaze skimmed right past the Osiris Red students, though he did stop briefly at Maeda Hayato. He was bent over his work, drawing furiously. A slight bit of pity touched Ryou’s heart at the sight. Someday, that could be Shou. He did hope that Shou wouldn’t try to attend Duel Academia. He wasn’t suited for it, and likely enough never would be.
There weren’t any Ra Yellows that were suitable, he decided. Sure, they might be good at it, but they’d be too overwhelmed by just having to help him. He needed someone who wouldn’t be in awe just by being in his presence. Those were few and far between, sadly. Perhaps one of the Obelisks would be willing to help. If he could find one that wouldn’t at least stare at him for even needing it. He was supposed to be the perfect duelist, after all.
Dueling isn’t art. He drew a few more lines before putting the pencil down. That was as good as it was going to get. Anything more would just torture the poor piece of paper beyond what was acceptable. If he didn’t need to pass this class, he probably wouldn’t have taken it in the first place.
He was about to put the sad attempt at artwork away when an extraordinarily familiar hand reached over and stopped him. He sighed briefly. “What do you want with that, Fubuki?”
“Just looking!” His far too cheerful friend chirped as he pulled the paper over to him. “You know, Ryou, this is really good. Have you ever thought about giving up this dueling thing and being an artist?”
Ryou shot a quick look over at his friend; Fubuki’s sense of humor wasn’t one that he especially enjoyed at times. But at the moment, Fubuki was staring at the paper with a perfectly serious expression on. Not that such an expression meant anything. He’d seen Fubuki examine a handful of sand in the same way, and then expound for ten minutes on the glories of Tupperware. Ryou could only hope it made sense in Fubuki’s own mind. If there was any other place where it made sense, Ryou feared for the world in general.
“What are you drawing?” Ryou asked, wanting to pull Fubuki’s attention away from his own work for a while. Fubuki dropped the paper, which Ryou quickly retrieved, and then held out what he’d been working on.
“This! It’s us!” He plopped it down on Fujiwara’s desk where they could all see it easily. Ryou bent forward a little, then looked over at his friend, not entirely certain if he believed his own eyes. He knew that Fubuki’s grip on reality was somewhat slippery, to put it mildly, but this was just a bit too much, even for him.
“Fubuki. These are stick figures.” He supposed if he squinted slightly, they looked a little different. One had what he supposed were arms folded over his chest, while another was juggling …something. Ryou couldn’t quite figure out what it was. The third one had a book in his hands, or a sort of rectangular thing with ‘book’ written on it in very tiny marks.
Fubuki nodded cheerfully. “I know! Aren’t they great?” It was impossible to get angry at Fubuki. Doing so was something like kicking a puppy that would only wag its tail and bounce right back onto your stomach, licking your face.
“Fubuki, they don’t look anything like us,” Fujiwara said, bending down to get a slightly better look. “Is that one supposed to be me?” He pointed to the one holding the book.
That got another energetic nod. “See, you study all the time, and Ryou likes to stand around with his duel disk…I haven’t put that in there, yet, but I will…and then there’s me! I couldn’t make up mind on what I wanted to be doing, so I picked juggling first. I might do another one later where I’m swimming or dueling or something like that.”
Ryou ground his teeth briefly. “Fubuki. These are stick figures. They’re not us. They’re not even pictures of us.”
“Of course they are.” Fubuki waved away his objections airily. “This is a picture of our potential, Ryou! We’re just first years now. Who knows what we’re going to grow up to be, right?” He eyed Ryou thoughtfully. “But I can make some guesses. You’re going to go into the Pro Leagues and win everything and a year after you graduate, you’ll be rich and famous. Almost as rich and famous as I’ll be, since I’m going to be an actor.”
He patted Fujiwara on the shoulder, grinning. “And you’re going to go work for some researching place and get really smart and know everything, right?” Fujiwara dropped his head, a faint blush tingeing his cheeks. Ryou had to admit, Fujiwara was more studious than the two of them put together.
Regardless, he was extraordinarily glad when he head the bell ring moments later. Kabayama attempted to tell the students something about an assignment, but only a handful remained to listen. The three young elites were among that handful, Ryou and Fujiwara because they both did their homework regularly, and Fubuki because they weren’t leaving yet.
Ryou didn’t think much about that sketch again. In a few more months, there were so many other more important events to think about, such as the mutual disappearance of his two best friends. If he thought of it at all, he would dismiss it. Potential? What was potential if they weren’t there at all?
“There you are!” Fubuki grinned at Ryou as Hell Kaiser stepped into the room. “We were wondering what was keeping you!”
The black-clad duelist only shrugged briefly as he glanced around. Fubuki’s current outfit was no surprise at all to him. He did, however, wonder what sort of blackmail Fubuki had used to get Asuka into that dress. It had to have been something impressive.
Another quick skim of the area showed that Fujiwara was quietly speaking with Samejima over by the stairs. Ryou watched his old friend for a time. It had been ages since they’d seen each other. Fubuki had told him some months earlier about how he had forgotten their friend, and only remembered him now due to a duel with Juudai.
I never knew Fubuki forgot. He hadn’t wanted to mention Fujiwara, since Fubuki had never talked about him in the first place after his return from Darkness. He hadn’t yet had a chance to talk to the green-haired young man, though.
Fubuki poked him in the side, and Ryou shot him a quick, annoyed look. He had never really put up with much of Fubuki’s antics, and these days he did so even less than before. But as always, Fubuki only grinned cheerfully at him. “Come on! I found something I want you guys to see!”
“What is it?” Hell Kaiser would definitely have preferred a more in-depth explanation than a simple ‘come on’. He was healing very well from his most recent surgery, and he didn’t need the wheelchair to get around in for right now, but Fubuki could still put a bit of strain on him just by existing.
All that his question received as an answer was tugging on his elbow. “Come on! This way!” Ryou presumed that Fubuki was trying to get him over to Fujiwara, but he never took anything for granted where Fubuki was concerned. It was just as likely that he had found an interesting shape in the jello.
Ryou was a bit hesitant on following, but there was really no way for him to deny Fubuki’s insistence. Not without causing damage that he didn’t really want to cause, outside of a duel. Fubuki wasn’t trying to annoy him. Not that he ever had to try. He could do it just by being normal.
Insofar as Fubuki ever was normal in the first place.
He really wasn’t even certain of what he was doing here. Being sociable wasn’t his preferred method of existing. He hadn’t even went to his own graduation party, preferring to spend his time packing and saying a few quiet words to Fubuki and Asuka before going to bed early.
Of course, now was a little different. Fujiwara was there, and this was also Shou’s graduation. He’d watched the ceremony from concealment, not wanting to distract from Shou’s joyful moment in any way. Seeing him turn down the chance for Mutou Yuugi’s deck had thrilled Ryou in a way he wasn’t sure if he could explain. Shou had truly understood, eventually.
He cast a quick glance over to where Shou was talking to Kenzan and Rei, and caught his brother’s eyes. Shou looked back at him and smiled just for a moment. That was all that they needed. Conversation could come later, and likely enough would. They had a lot to do together, after all.
Fubuki barely stopped tugging on him, ending up about where Ryou had suspected they would, over by Fujiwara. Samejima had bid him farewell and was already heading over to where Tome-san was waiting for him, a slightly goofy smile on her lips.
“Aw, aren’t they cute?” Fubuki paused long enough to take notice of that. Ryou refused to even look. Other people’s private lives did not interest him. Nor did their public ones, truth to be told.
“What is it you wanted, Fubuki?” he asked, wanting to get this dealt with. He really hadn’t planned to stay all that long, after all.
He nodded a bit at Fujiwara, who nodded back. It was hard to believe it had been five years, and Fujiwara scarcely looked as if he had aged at all. At least not physically. Emotionally, he had. They all had.
Except for Fubuki, but that went without saying.
Fubuki grinned, reached into his jacket, and pulled out a wrinkled and much-folded piece of paper. “Remember this?” Both leaned over for a better look. Ryou sighed briefly at the sight of it.
“Stick figures again?” It was indeed that same picture. Worn with the passage of time, but now that he saw it, he remembered it quite clearly.
From another pocket, Fubuki pulled out a black colored pencil. “I said it was our potential before. Let me show you!” He bent over it, moving it slightly so that they couldn’t see what he was doing. When he finally presented it to them again, the drawing was a little different now.
“What is this supposed to be?” Ryou stared at it, not at all certain of the changes. Fubuki rolled his eyes.
“Look!” He pointed to the stick figure that he had once said represented Ryou. The arms were still folded over the chest, but now something like a black cloud surrounded him. “That’s your new look.” He gestured towards Ryou’s black leather gear. Then he pointed towards the one that was Fujiwara. The book had been altered so it slightly resembled a card. “That’s Honest’s card, because he helped bring you back.”
Fujiwara flushed a little and nodded. Then Fubuki pointed to his own stick figure, which now was holding another card, while the juggling balls had been marked out. Ryou peered at it before he looked back up at Fubuki in confusion. “What’s that?” Kanji had been written on it, but it was so small that he couldn’t really make it out.
Fubuki’s wicked grin was far, far too familiar. Once again he reached into an inner pocket and this time, he tossed a very familiar card onto the table: the card of Darkness. The chains still held the mask back, and Ryou would not have been at all surprised if it had laughed. “It’s that.” He considered something, then bent over the paper once again, his hands and the pencil moving quickly.
When it was done, a line led from the image of the card to a few terse words. Ryou shook his head a little, and Fujiwara stifled a laugh.
Because only Tenjoin Fubuki would have written I made Darkness my bitch on a drawing of stick figures. He grinned proudly. “I told you all. Potential!”
“Stick figures, Fubuki.” Hell Kaiser said wearily. “Stick figures.”
The End